


Solace

by skinscript (Infie)



Category: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infie/pseuds/skinscript
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Lee need to spend a little time forgetting things.  What better way than this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

A/N: Written for the [Live Journal Slashfic](http://community.livejournal.com/slashfic) prompt: _Lee/Anders -- should take place after Maelstrom and before Crossroads Part II. other than that, any scenario is fine._

* * *

_At some point between 'Maelstrom' and 'Crossroads II' (more specifically, between 'The Son Also Rises' and 'Crossroads I')..._

Lee tried to avoid the memorial hall. At one point it had been a peaceful, almost soothing place to go. Somewhere he could walk and reflect and hone his hate to a fine razor sharp edge. Somewhere he could leave behind the cloak of authority and responsibility, and just BE. In the memorial hall, every person was just... a person. Everyone was equal in their grief. 

Not any more though. Now, it was a place to stay away from, a place of churn and rage and dull wits. A place _she_ haunted. He'd walk through and he'd see her staring at Kat's picture, see her standing surrounded by death as if she were at home. Maybe she had been. 

So, Lee tried to avoid it. Like everything else he tried to avoid, it seemed that every day made him walk that gods-damned corridor at least once. Today was no different. 

He strode it quickly, head down and cursing the maintenance being done on the parallel corridor, only to all but trip over long legs outstretched across the hallway. He looked up reflexively, remembering too late that he didn't do that here, and why. 

Sam sat against the wall, staring blankly at the picture of Kara on the wall. Lee hadn't looked at it since he'd reluctantly tacked it into place, and he didn't look at it now. Instead, he focussed on the man in front of him, someone who he probably would have been inclined to call a friend, if Kara hadn't existed between them. Someone who he did call a friend, in his head if nowhere else. 

"Sam." 

Sam tilted his head a little in acknowledgement, not actually moving his eyes away from Kara's picture. "Lee," he replied softly. 

Lee bit his lip, considering. The hole he felt all the gods-damned time gaped open wider every time he saw the answering one in Sam, and he felt it throbbing now. It hurt, and he knew only one way to make it stop. 

"Come on," he said curtly, thrusting a hand down for Sam to grab to help pull himself up. "I think it's time for some of Chief's finest." 

That got Sam's attention, and he frowned up at Lee as if processing the words and the gesture were too much for him. His eyes were sober, though, no sign of alcohol or drugs. Their depths reflected that missing piece so clearly that Lee had to look away, though he left his hand where it was. 

After a long moment, _too long_ , Sam took it. 

He hauled himself to his feet with an effort, the cast on his leg hampering his natural athleticism. Lee winced in sympathy. Sam stared at him, challenge in his face. "Where to?" 

Lee shrugged and led the way. 

His office as CAG had been pretty spacious, by Galactica standards. His 'office' as counsel for the defence was frakking palatial. Technically shared with Romo, he couldn't actually remember the man ever stepping inside. He snorted and headed for the desk, reached in to withdraw a tall bottle of Chief's moonshine. Ambrosia it wasn't, but effective it was. He slammed it onto the desk, dropped two glasses beside it. "Get the hatch," he muttered at Sam, opening the bottle. 

Sam laughed humourlessly but closed the hatch and locked it. "Isn't this how I got in trouble last time?" 

Lee glanced up from pouring, pinned him with a glare that missed being hostile by less than he would want to admit. "Yes," he said. "But this time, you're drinking with me." 

Sam stumped over to the desk, swiped one of the glasses and made his slow way over to the overstuffed couch that took up the port wall of the compartment. He dropped into it heavily but didn't spill a drop. Lee lifted an eyebrow in appreciation and finished pouring his own glass. He picked it and the bottle up and sat down in the chair across from Sam. The bottle went on the small table between them; the glass went to his lips. "Frak," he muttered against the rim. " _Frak_." 

"Amen," Sam said. 

They drank, choking slightly at the burn. 

Without a word, Lee refilled the glasses, drank again. Sam matched him. 

Again. 

Again. 

Lee squinted at the bottle, realising he should have brought the other one with him too. He sighed, heaved to his feet, and started the trip back to his desk. It felt longer this time, though that could have had something to do with the extra steps he kept taking sideways. When he straightened triumphantly, he found Sam watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"You know," Sam said suddenly. "I understand why she liked you." His voice came out a lot more sober than Lee's would have at that moment and a quick flash of irritation burned through him at the thought. Sam licked his lips, leaving them wet and drawing Lee's attention. Immediately he pulled his eyes away, back to meet Sam's. "Why she loved you," Sam completed only a little unsteadily. 

Lee wobbled back to the chair, sinking into it gratefully. He set the full bottle carefully, _precisely_ beside the rapidly emptying one, and stared at it intently. Did Sam really want to go there? Really? He heard Sam lift his glass, heard the other man swallow the booze down in long gulps. The glass clinked on the surface of the table. 

"Lee." 

Yeah, ok. They were doing this. 

"I can understand why she li..loved you too," he replied grudgingly, finally looking up. He took another drink, poured them both a refill. He tried to count how many they'd gone through in the last twenty minutes and snickered at the realisation he'd lost track already. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten so drunk so thoroughly so _fast_ , at least, not a time that didn't include Kara. Meeting Sam's grief-stricken eyes, he snorted at them both. 

It wasn't like Kara wasn't here now, after all. Look at them. They were frakking pathetic, both of them. 

Sam really was gorgeous, too. Not his usual type, but Lee had to admit the man was damned handsome, pretty even. All long, lean lines, that rangy body that was built for reach and power. Sure, in a man Lee tended to prefer the compact guys like Narcho. But right here, right now, he was looking at Sam with Kara's eyes and the man was a sex dream. The intelligence behind those bright eyes was a hell of a bonus, too. 

From the speculative look on Sam's face, he'd read the track of Lee's thoughts, and was considering the same thing. Lee knocked back his latest drink and felt mentally at the edges of that Kara-shaped hole in his soul. It still hurt, but now Lee was thinking of other ways to forget. 

Better ways to forget. 

He licked his lips and decided to play for full colours. "I understand why she wanted you." 

Sam's eyes darkened, his nostrils flared as he processed the invitation as what it was. Lee stared at him steadily, refusing to back down. Sam put down his glass carefully on the table. 

"I don't want to talk about Kara," he said clearly. "Do you have anything else we could discuss?" 

Lee grinned. "Yeah," he said, "I think I do." 

Sam blinked at him, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. For someone who had just pounded back the kind of alcohol he had, he looked remarkably sober. Not totally sober, of course. But still, surprisingly un-foggy. Lee decided not to think about why that might be and instead made his way to his feet, stepping deliberately around the table and leaning over Sam closely. He braced one hand against the back of the couch, the other on the arm, and pressed in until he could feel the heat of Sam's body radiating under him. Sam just tilted his head back and watched him with those heavy-lidded eyes. 

Lee took one last deep breath, wondering if this was all just the alcohol, or just grief, or just that he had finally lost his frakking mind, but that breath was full of the dark spicy scent of skin and sweat and heat... of _Sam_. He let the air out, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Sam lifted one large hand and settled it behind his neck, tugging gently. 

"It's ok, Lee," he whispered, "let go." 

Lee closed his eyes and let gravity have it's way, sinking down onto Sam's body and into Sam's mouth. He tasted ... deep, somehow. Like moonshine and sadness and the slightest hint of ocean. It had been so long since he'd been near an ocean that he chased the taste mindlessly, only realising that he'd been kissing Sam breathless when he tore his mouth free, chest heaving for air. When Lee would have lifted to give him room Sam growled and clamped him in place with both large hands. Sam lunged up, fastened his mouth on Lee's neck, licked and pressed the sensitive tendons there with careless strength. Lee was going to be wearing marks. 

He really, really didn't care. 

His hands scrambled for Sam's waist, rucking the grey t-shirt up with frantic haste, trying to keep some semblance of control as Sam finally let him go and went after his tie and shirt with single-minded intensity. The moonshine made Lee's head spin and he pulled away before Sam's lust-clumsy fingers could actually strangle him with the tie. Sam obligingly ripped off his shirt as Lee fumbled with his own buttons, finally managing to get loose after an embarrassingly long time. 

Sam's hands dropped to his waist and he pushed upwards with his hips, almost knocking Lee off in his efforts to get more pressure. He groaned in frustration. Lee sat up, ran a hand through his hair. "Floor," he said shortly. Sam nodded and tipped himself off the edge of the couch, landing with a faint 'oof' and a drunken laugh. Lee followed him down, stretching him out and pushing down to feel Sam's hardness against his own. This time Sam's moan was one of pleasure, and it vibrated right up into Lee's head, making it swim even more. 

His hand flashed down to Sam's waistband, feverishly trying to get the button open. "Off, off, off," he chanted, pushing at his pants. Sam laughed. 

"Unless you want to stop to take off the cast, they're staying on," he said breathlessly before drawing Lee back down into another kiss. Lee muttered darkly, but gave in and just pulled open the fly, finding Sam hard and silky and waiting for him. Sam's clever fingers were busy at Lee's zipper, finally, _finally_ getting his slacks open and pushing their erections together. 

The heavy slide of skin on skin was excruciating, the thick callous on Sam's hand catching him in all the right places and sending little starbursts of colour up behind his eyelids. Lee dropped his forehead to Sam's collarbone with a little thunk and just ... let his hips do their work. He stuck his tongue out, licked the salt from Sam's heated skin, thrust harder. 

Sam was twisting under him, squeezing him hard. The friction was just the right side of painful. It might have been better with something to make them wet, to make them slick, but it wouldn't have felt like this... felt like something deep and grinding and desperate. Wouldn't have felt like the struggle they lived every day. 

Sam was gasping in his ear, the hand not holding them together pressing tightly into the flesh over Lee's shoulder so he could feel each individual finger. Sweat beaded both chests, finally starting to give them some glide to go with the pain-pleasure of Sam's fist tightening rhythmically, goading them on. Lee was lost in the storm of sensation, the ripples of fire up and down his legs. "Gods, Sam," he ground out, then clenched his eyes shut and came. Sam gave one more frantic twist of hips and followed him over the precipice, fluid pulsing thick and hot between them. Lee twisted his hands into fists beside Sam's head and fought to get his heart rate under control, even as his body twitched and shook with each shudder of Sam's. Finally, Sam let him go. 

Sam's breath was laboured, his chest heaved heavily under Lee. His eyes were closed, hiding his expression. Lee rolled off him, used his shirt to wipe himself off before dropping it onto Sam's stomach. 

"I like you," he blurted. "If it weren't for... Well. You'd be a good friend." 

Sam's lips twitched into a smile, and he licked them slowly as if to savour any lingering taste. "Thanks." The smile faded. "I think... I just need to know. I need to know _why_." 

Lee looked up at the ceiling. "Why." He laughed humourlessly. "That's an answer I don't think anyone will ever have." He glanced at Sam's sprawled form beside him, noticed again the long lean lines and promise of power. "Though, come to think of it..." He grinned as the thought crystallized in his head. "If you really want to know what Starbuck was about, what really made her _her_..." He paused until Sam rolled his head to look at him. "Tell me, Sam, have you ever considered learning to fly?" 

-30-


End file.
